Woman
You watch her as she surveys the bullpen from the catwalk. Something in the way she holds herself and the look in her eyes tell you that it is going to be another long night of erasing pain. You catch her eyes and give her a wink. She responds with a wry grin and hooks her finger at you. Your feet carry you up the stairs before you even are aware of what you are doing because when she says jump, you say how high?
If I be so inclined to climb up beside you,
Would you tell me that the time just isn't right?
And if I should ever find the key you hide so well,
Will you tell me that I can spend the night?
She pounces on you as you walk into her office and she plasters herself to you body. You hold on tight as she gently bites into your shoulder and you know that her scent is going to linger on you for annoyingly longer than is acceptable to your blood pressure. Her phones rings and she regretfully pulls away, begging with her eyes that you will go round tonight because she needs you. You nod at her and straighten your jacket, hanging on slightly longer than needed in her doorway just to watch her twirl a pen around her fingers and shoo you out of her office when she realizes you are still there.
Leaving your smell on my coat, leaving your taste on my shoulder.
I still fail to understand what it is about this woman.
You collect her from her office later, practically dragging her home because she needs to get away from the oppressive darkness that work has become. You swing by and pick up food, not caring what it is because you know you won't eat it, but you both have to keep up appearances, even in private. She covers your hand with hers over the gear stick and entwines her fingers with yours. The feel of her skin against yours is almost too much and you resist the urge to pull the car over and drag her into the backseat. But instead you just inhale deeply, breathing in her scent which lingers for too long after she is gone.
If I could bottle up the chills that you give me
I would keep them in a jar next to my bed.
And if I should ever draw a picture of a woman
It is you that would come flowing from my pen.
You don't know if she does it on purpose but she leaves her cloths lying across the house. Her coat in the hallway, her shoes at the bottom of the stairs, her blouse halfway up the stairs, her skirt in the upstairs hallway. It's like some bizarre relay race and by the time you get to your bedroom, she is sprawled on the bed in nothing more than her underwear and the sight leaves you breathless. She gestures to you and you have to remind yourself that tonight is about her and making her feel alive.
Leaving your clothes on the floor, Making me walk out the door
And I still fail to understand what it is about this woman.
You are dimly aware of hands and tongues, kisses and need, of fingernails across skin and blood pumping in your ear. Her body is slick under you. She licks at your chest, pulling a nipple into her mouth and your arms nearly give way. But the way her eyes slide close gives you a wave of power and you move once, twice, deeply into her, reveling in the way her breath hitches as she lets go.
Helplessly melting as I stand next to the sun.
As she burns me, I am screaming out for more
Drink every drop of liquid heat that I've become.
Pop me open; spill me out on to the floor.
You used to not understand what it is about her that drives you mad, but the way she curls her fingers into your hair on your chest, they way she pulls your earlobe into her hot wicked mouth, the way she looks at you with hurt and need at the end of a long day makes you realize that everything she does drives you made, everything about the woman lying on your chest, her heartbeat heavy against your skin, everything about her gives you chills. She nips playfully at your nipple again and you growl as you pin her beneath you. The tired rings have gone from her eyes and you know it will be a long night.
Leaving your smell on my coat, leaving your taste on my shoulder...
V!
xox